The Mermaid and the Pirate
by Madelena Rossi
Summary: What happens when a society girl in the 1800s decides to test the bounds of societal roles, only to be caught up in revenge against her father? AU #Klebekah This will have explicit scenes in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Here I am about to enter another of my father's masquerade balls. It is impossible to put into words the magnitude of my disinterest in attending one more market in which I am the wares on display and the eligible bachelors of the ton are the prospective buyers. Of course, my father would never acknowledge my perspective on these events and only call me "dear", pat my head, and send me to the most conservative dressmaker. Then I would spend the evening dodging the advances of sleazy fortune hunters, sniveling fops, and elder wastrels looking for a young wife to wrangle the progeny left behind when the original wife died birthing out another lord or lady in waiting.

But not this time.

I had taken it upon myself to visit a slightly more controversial modiste in order to design my gown. She was the one who turned me away from my usual angelic cherub or sprite, all pastel colors and puffy layers. I looked down at my emerald sheath, clinging more closely to my unfashionable curves, and the décolleté that was not quite as modest as I was use to. No reason to mince words in my own mind, it displayed enough cleavage to cause even the modiste to gasp at the fitting and for my lady's maid to inquire as to whether I had a wrap for over top. Here I was about to enter and make quite a splash, as it were. Who knew that deciding to become a mermaid for the evening would change the course of my fate?

Of course the society dames were too refined to gasp as my dressmaker had, but with a quick flick of the wrist they were able to hide there judgmental whisperings behind silken fans. I may have actually even seen a monocle drop into a glass of bourbon. Just as my resolve began to waiver and I wondered if that wrap would not have been a most judicious improvement, he was there before me. His mask was that of a wolf and all I could perceive were blue eyes and a set of full lips that may have appeared feminine on any other man, but on this lean and muscular gentlemen were somehow even more intimidating. For a moment I wondered how it would feel to bit on that bottom lip, causing a most unbecoming and virginal flush to decorate the bosoms in his full view.

"Does the sea nymph have a free space on her dance card for this poor, mangy hound?"

"Of course, kind sir, as long as you promise not to bite."

"Alas, fair maiden, that I cannot promise."

Unable to determine where all of this newfound bold courage had come from, I follow my gallant savior onto the dance floor just as a waltz commences.

"Oh, no! A waltz! Perhaps we could come out for the next one."

"Rebekah, you have come too far to turn back now. Why don't you show these people what you're really made of."

My head whips up as I detect a note of scorn in this stranger's voice and demeanor. I haven't any idea who he is and yet he knows my name and appears to hold me in some contempt, even if he is currently holding me pressed quite firmly against his body. Before I can object or call him out on his too familiar treatment of me, we are dancing across the floor and it is like I was made to move with him. The bothersome crowd fades into the background and all I see, hear, and feel is him. It's as if my every sense has tuned into him and desperately seeks any stimulus to claim as its own. He even smells like a man should smell; no powdered puffery or rose water, just liquor and smoke and danger. As the music begins to wind down, this masked temptation leans down until his lips are but a breath away from mine.

"Be careful of the wolf at your door, Sweetheart. He is not as well-trained as your other lapdogs."

And with that he left me on the floor to fade into the group of new dancers lining up for a reel. I shake myself once to clear the fog that had infested my head and quickly flee the floor. As I make my way somewhere, I had yet to determine where as long as it was away from prying eyes, I come face to face with my father. I was far too flustered to have this confrontation and tried to side step him with some gibberish about the strap on my dancing shoes having broken, but his face bespeaks of someone not so easily put off.

"What is the meaning of this, Rebekah? Is it your intention to bring shame upon this family? For this final insolent act of yours, I can only move on to finding you the appropriate husband without further ado. Consider yourself off the shelf, my dear. You'll be wed within the month."

Too much. It is all too much. Instead of engaging in verbal warfare, I take off for the veranda and the gardens beyond. I had pushed him too far this time and would bear the full brunt of his admonishments and the consequences to my actions. Instead of scaring off all prospective suitors, I would end up tied to the worst of the lot for sure. As tears stream down my face, I can't help but give berating myself.

"You've done it this time, Bekah. You've proven all of society correct in its assessment of you as a flighty, spoiled brat with no thoughts given to anyone else. It's even a wonder that your father loves you."

"I'm counting on the fact he does love you, Sweetheart."

I spin on my heels to find the wolf from earlier, this time without his mask, yet I am sure it is him. Those lips still call out for my teeth to nibble on them. Before I can ask him what he is doing following me into the gardens, a pair of hands yanks my arms harshly behind me to bind them and a gag is slipped between my lips. My eyes plead with the wolf to help me, but I am soon absolved of my notion he is to be my hero.

"So, what's yea be wantin' us to do wif her, Klaus?"

"I'll be sure to take care of her myself. Can't have the lure damaged."

With those words, the wolf throws me over his shoulder and I realize I am doomed. I've just been kidnapped by the fearsome pirate, Niklaus.


	2. Chapter 2

I am deposited with a thud inside a most elegant carriage, one that does not look like the vehicle of my doom as it actually is. I immediately begin to struggle against my bindings while Niklaus plants himself across from me. His sharp inhalation of breath draws my attention to him and I see where his eyes have focused on the plunging neckline that has crept lower with every wiggle of my body, exposing the lacy edge of my camisole. I immediately stop my movements and turn my body to the side in an attempt to preserve even a modicum of modesty in this impossible situation.

"There is no point in using any of your well-known weapons against me, Bekah. I am aware of how you use your body to ensnare those weak-willed gentlemen", he says with a derisive sniff at the last word. "Although I am impressed at the virginal blush you seem to be able to produce at will. Must make for quite the attractive bait for your unwitting victims, that is until they discover what honestly awaits them between your legs, and it is not the barrier they anticipate."

I cannot help the tears that well in my eyes as I hear his harsh invectives. It is apparent that Niklaus has done his homework on me and that includes listening to every piece of gossip mongering and innuendo I have been the center of for months now. There would be no point in denying it even if I didn't have the gag in my mouth. It is quite obvious he would not believe me, just as no one had except my father.

Several months ago I was being pursued quite actively by the Marquess Delongville, in what many thought would be a most auspicious pairing. The ton declared me blessed and most deemed I should be grateful to be the focus of his ardor, especially the Marquess. So grateful that I would be willing to give him a small taste of what he would be able to sup freely upon on our wedding night. I was not quite receptive to his desire and it was only my well-placed knee into his most sensitive part that allowed me to escape his grasp in the library that evening where he had isolated me for what I thought was a proposal. Little did I know the other target of his affections saw my disheveled flight and decided to besmirch my character in order to remove me as competition. Lady Ava's brother, the one of the large gambling debts, was willing to go along with her in describing my lascivious escapades in order to remove me from the Marquess's consideration.

I understand Delongville and Ava had a lovely wedding.

After these false, but quite colorful, stories of my various interludes with rakes made their rounds, I reacted in the worst way possible. Instead of fading into the woodwork and waiting for them to blow over until the next maiden danced too freely or spoke too openly, I fought back. I was always far too headstrong for my own good. I took to riding without an escort, interjecting my opinion about politics, and last but not least, dressing like the wanton woman I was painted to be. If I was to be declared a whore, I would be the best-dressed one in Almack's. It all culminated with my entry into the ball this evening dressed as a mermaid in a far too tight sheath.

"Tears won't work either, love. I have seen things that could give a person good cause to weep and not the petty things you worry your little head about. You'll find I cannot be manipulated quite that easily. If I remove the gag, will you be a good girl and not deafen me with your squawking and wailing? It won't help you and will only irritate me more. You wouldn't like to see me irritated, now would you?"

I shake my head and Niklaus gently removes the cloth from my mouth before tossing it to the floor. I take a moment to exercise my jaw to relieve some residual pain before speaking.

"What is your plan for me?"

"If you were any other lady of the day this would be quite simple and less ugly. I could send word to your father that I planned to defile you in the most egregious manner unless he gives me what I wants, not that I would ever touch one of you society creatures. The threat would be enough. But no, Rebekah, you had to go and defile yourself with whatever sops you allowed to bed, quite unsatisfactorily I'm sure. So instead the threat will have to be on your life itself."

"So you will kill me unless my father pays your price?"

"Money? It's all you lot care about. I have more money than I could spend in twenty lifetimes and don't want a single pound of dirty money your father has acquired. I want revenge, sweetheart. Something no amount of money will dissuade me from."

"My father is a good man whose business is above reproach!"

In an instant, Niklaus is across the carriage and has my face caught in his one hand, squeezing slightly. I can sense the barely contained rage that in a moment could cause me great harm if he so chose. There is loathing in his eyes as he spits out the completely believable threat.

"You say one more word in defense of that man and I will rip out your tongue to send to him as proof of my intent."

A look flickers across his countenance, almost of regret as his harshness until it is replaced by the previous icy glare as he returns to his seat.

"Ah look, Princess, we're here."

I follow his gaze out the carriage window and see a large ship moored to the dock. It had escaped my notice we had left the main thoroughfare long ago. My eyes widen and I begin to shake my head vehemently, knowing once I am at sea there is little hope for my rescue. I bite my lip to keep from pleading for my release, knowing that a man like Niklaus would only be disgusted at such a display of weakness. I would need to pray for a sympathetic ally once on the ship who would be willing to help me escape when we pull to shore for provisions. My father would pay a great deal of money to someone who facilitated my freedom and although Niklaus claimed great wealth, I am sure there is a crew member who would be pleased with a bit of coin.

The carriage stops and once again I am heaved over a broad shoulder and carried towards the ship.

"There is no reason for you to toss me about. I am perfectly capable of walking."

"I don't want you to get some silly notion of jumping overboard. Even a mermaid would sink like a stone with this much material draped around her. Next time you want to make an impression, Princess, wear a little less."

With that, I am taken onto the boat and moved through its bowels until we reach a cabin door that is kicked closed behind us. I brace myself to be tossed harshly upon some piece of furniture, when instead I am slowly lowered to me feet, my body feeling every rippling muscle underneath the topcoat Niklaus wore as costume for the evening. Strong arms stay wrapped around me to untie the rope around my wrists as our faces linger a mere inch apart. Once free, I am immovable, still captivated by this predator who holds my life in his hands. He lowers his face to mine until we are sharing the same breath.

"Be careful what you offer, love. I am no saint and I just might bite into this forbidden apple; see exactly how ripe you are."

With that he turns and walks out of my jail, the last sound that of a bolt sliding into place.


	3. Chapter 3

It has been days since I have become acquainted with my new chambers and to say I am going mad would be quite the understatement. Although, it was quite surprising to me what I found once I was able to explore. It was quite obvious my abduction had been planned well in advance, as I had access to all the basic womanly necessities; clothing, toiletries, hairpins, and shoes. At least I would not be stuck as a mermaid for my entire stay. It was the non-essential elements that took me by surprise.

There were shelves with books of varying content, both educational and fanciful. It was also stocked with a variety of needlepoint materials that while not my normal cup of tea, at least had the ability to assuage some boredom. Lastly and most interestingly, were the copious amounts of art materials. Parchment, charcoal, paints, and brushes. I was hard pressed to believe that a ruffian such as Niklaus Mikaelson could hold any interest in the finer things in life beyond doubloons and debauchery; it was quite obvious some thought had gone into the purchasing of these items. Perhaps he wasn't the only one with a preconceived notion or two. Irrelevant, because he was still a pirate and I was just as captive no matter how fine the furnishings.

My only break in monotony was my daily visit by a young cabin boy who provided my meals and a bit of companionship. Although boy may be a bit of a stretch because he was surely my age, he seemed so much younger and far less worldly for being on a pirate ship. Matthew arrived thrice daily with a tray of food and whatever information I could glean from him. The first day or two he was most reticent to even speak to me, but he said I reminded him of his sister and he took some pity. He saw me as a girl caught in a horrible situation through no fault of her own.

I saw him as a means to escape.

I made sure to be working diligently on some craft or another every time he arrived. Tapestry draped across knees pressed firmly together and hands lightly placed in my lap, a downward gaze speaking of one demure and innocent. So I possibly laid it on a bit thick, but I was desperate. It was through him I found out the ship had docked in a small port for provisions and most of the crew and disembarked for the evening. He stated with a blush that he had stayed behind through lack of interest in what entertainment the others would be pursuing.

He was far too sweet for me to get caught up in my escapades, so I declined trying to barter with him to free me. Instead, I would use the other "craft" project I had been working on to aid my escape. While Matthew was most attentive to my stories of eccentric society dames, he was not as attentive with the silverware. I had been able to slip a knife into the copious folds of my dress and that same knife had been most useful in taking apart the hinges of my door one evening. I had immediately put them back together, but they were now easily undone. I had been waiting for the perfect time to slip the bolts free and make my escape. Tonight was it.

I prepared for the evening by using some material to pin my jewelry from the ball to the inside of my skirt and scissors to alter my undergarments in a way so that I had less to weigh me down in my short swim. A satchel found amidst all the clothing left for me could easily be pulled behind me with anything I might need once I reached shore and could find some help. I was unrealistically optimistic about my chances and had little idea of the danger I was exposing myself to other than the wrath of Niklaus.

I would soon understand my folly.

I watched the clock unblinkingly until the hands reached midnight before I made my attempt. The hinges slipped out easily and I carefully pulled at the metal until the door opened enough for me to wedge myself through and then pull the door back closed as best I could. It would not pass any kind of close inspection, but a casual glance could be fooled. The ship appeared deserted and I traced back the path I remembered taking when I arrived in order to find the deck. I was nearing the stairs I hoped would lead me to freedom when he stepped out from a doorway. Tall, broad, and reeking of liquor, my unexpected company had obviously not found reason to be on shore that evening and instead was now hindering my progress and leering at me as if I were a tasty morsel.

"Wot we got 'ere, luv? Feelin' to stretch yer legs? Hows about we stretch out some other parts of yea as well?"

A steely grip drags me into the room from which my obstacle had just exited and I was pressed against the wall before I had a moment to register that there may be worse things than boredom or a midnight swim in store for me this evening. I opened my mouth to scream for help, who I thought would be my hero I did not know, when a greasy mouth covered my own and a foul tongue was forced inside. I struggled viciously against his cruel attack, hands running roughly over my body that was trying to evade every touch. His kiss hard enough to draw blood as I tried to turn my head while a hand reached inside my bodice to paw and pinch at my breast. I guess Niklaus was wrong about the revenge that was going to be dealt to my father.

I had been in a similar position before with the Marquess, but this savage man was not simply trying to steal a kiss. He was going to keep taking until I was used and discarded on the floor. I knew any action I took could very well fail and only incur greater ire, but I had to try. I bit down hard on my attacker's tongue and shoved when that action momentarily stunned him. I began to scream my head off while racing for the door until fingers clenched in my flaxen tresses to throw me back against the wall. It was in this moment I hoped he was angry enough to beat me into unconsciousness before he undertook whatever level of deviance he preferred. At least then I would not have to endure it.

With hands clenched around my throat, my world began to darken while I smiled it sweet relief; at least my ordeal was over. It was this last thought that I became confused when the pressure was alleviate and I crumbled to the floor. I realized I was staring at my assailant, also prone, lying across from me and bleeding from his skull. How could this be?

A moment later I was looking into the eyes of my wolfish savior as he inspected me, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. I could barely make out what he was saying in such growling tones as picked me up from the floor to take me back to my cell, but a lady must always remember her manners and with the last of my breath I rasped out what any thwarting of sexual assault deserves.

"Thank you."

It was then, with my duties thusly met, I allowed myself to enter the black.


	4. Chapter 4

Pain.

This was the only word that permeated the cotton bunting my head was swaddled within. Pain had latched onto every inch of my body and was now prodding at me to awaken fully to face the consequences of my midnight sojourn. The pain was not going to be the only consequence I faced as I looked upon the back of Niklaus; all coiled tension ready to spring forth at the littlest indication the source of his ire had rejoined the land of the living. Not wanting to face what was bound to be a most unpleasant encounter, I chose to feign continued sleep; possibly for the next year or so.

"Are you an imbecile?"

I instantly knew my ruse was not as believable as my talent in parlor room theatrics had assured me. Blinking my eyes to try and focus better on my captor, I came to find my one eye was not cooperating in opening fully. I imagine my face had made contact with the fist of my assailant at some point in our scuffle. This truly would make batting my eyes at Matthew more difficult.

"I…I'm sorry…?"

"Are. You. An. Imbecile? No apologies are necessary love, if your deficient mental faculties created this situation. My spy did not include that bit of information in the dossier he collected on you, but I suppose all you weak-minded society dames have a similar lack of formal education which would mask an ingrained level of idiocy. It would just appear to be the normal shallow nature of your sort. Had I known you were particularly impaired, perhaps I would have taken greater precautions."

My indignation at being lumped in with many of the ninnies who only knew of fashion plates and the best petit fours to serve at afternoon tea forced me to sit up and argue my case in a most forceful manner. Sadly, my poor body had enough abuse for one night and I winced and let out a low groan as I fell back on the bed in agony. For a moment it appeared as if Niklaus was going to rush forward in sympathy, even taking a step before his visage hardened once more from concern to anger. Nevertheless, my mouth was still functional even in its swollen state.

"I would think it wise indeed to have a heightened sense of self-preservation. Should I have hung about until you tired of playing babysitter to the pampered, pedigreed princess or attempted to save my own damn self?!"

I spit out the last in a fit of outrage. Niklaus could call me a whore if he so chose, it wasn't like he had been the first, but to insinuate I was nothing but a be-laced ornament hit a little too close to the stifling expectations put upon me.

"I will tell you this, Niklaus Mikaelson, I will never stop trying to get home to my father. I will survive whatever is thrown at me and thrive!"

In a flash he is hovering over me as I lie on the bed, a mere layer or two of blankets separating my heaving bosom from his more hardened chest. The look in his eyes has changed yet again. There almost appears to be a begrudging respect warring with the amusement at my outburst. A corner of his full mouth quirks up to reveal the most interesting dimple I have ever seen. My fingers begin to itch to trace along it and I inwardly curse my most foolish thoughts.

"You are lucky my hunger for sustenance is currently out-weighing my hunger for baser pursuits or I would not be able to resist having a taste of that spicy tongue of yours."

And with that he is off me and heading towards the door.

"You must have hit your head quite hard to not even notice your change in environs, Bekah. You are now in the room adjoining mine so I can keep a close watch on your new escape plans. I may even find them quite amusing. Good night."

Once I am fully able to breathe again I see that I am not in my former chambers but in an entirely different stateroom. My things, or at least those things bought for me, have been moved over thusly and I rake my hands over my body to assure myself the jewels I had pinned within my skirt where still safely ensconced. I am relieved to find Mr. Mikaelson may be many things, but a defiler of unconscious women is not one of them and the pouch is still pinned within.

I roll over gently until I am comfortably situated for the night, sleep invading my senses almost immediately.

"NO! NO! NO! GET OFF! MY GOD! HELP ME!"

A terrified voice I don't even recognize is my own pierces the calm as footsteps race quickly towards my bed. I lash out at my attacker with all my might, scratching and punching, determined to fight myself out of this predicament.

"Bekah. Bekah! Settle down, sweetheart, it is I, Nik. You're OK. I've got you. You're safe."

I come fully awake and blink under the lamplight spilling in through the doorway from the adjacent room. Strong arms embrace me as my struggles begin to wane. The irony of the words being spoken against my brow tinged with fear induced sweat are not lost on me, but the voice is soothing in spite of our respective roles. I am not safe with him, and yet I feel the tension begins to leave my body. The nightmare that sparked this outburst is fading from my mind and instead of the rough hands of my assailant; I can only feel his hands on me, protecting me.

My breathing slows as calm returns and Niklaus begins to slide off of the bed. In a panic, I grab onto the linen nightshirt he wears and cling desperately.

"Please don't leave me! If you go he will come back and do unspeakable things to me. I cannot bear it, Nik!"

I cannot see the hesitation in his face nor the look of true concern in his eyes as I nuzzle into his chest, but I can feel his strong arms as they embrace me and the hear the soothing voice that starts to croon words of comfort.

"Shh. You have nothing to fear, love. He is gone and can no longer injure you. I promise I will keep you safe as long as you are under my supervision. Nothing and no one will harm you."

The actions combined are enough to bring sleep rushing back to me, dragging me back under. My only explanation for the kiss brushed against my hairline is it must have been the beginnings of a new dream taking hold. The dastardly Pirate Niklaus would never show such tenderness.

The next morning I awaken to a pillow that seems to rise and fall at a steady pace, but pillows do not move. It takes me several moments to put together the events of the prior evening before I realize who is acting as a substitute for down stuffing. I slowly tilt my head to catch a glimpse of Niklaus at rest and it is quite a sight to behold. The hardened mask has slipped and instead I observe handsome features unmarred by cynicism.

I can also make out the faint indent of the dimple which so fascinated me the night before. My hand moves up of its own volition to trace the mark which apparently cannot be denied. The moment I am about to touch his skin, my hand is manacled in fingers of iron. I meet Niklaus's eyes and cannot speak, caught in my own folly and in some other web I fear will entangle me even further.

We stare, each one waiting for the other to blink first.


	5. Chapter 5

***Slight switch, dear readers. This chapter is told from Niklaus's perspective and there is smut. Gentler readers may wish to avert your eyes, although I cannot imagine why gentler hearts are reading anything I write.***

The tension is a palpable entity in this room as the ship rolls gently with the waves lapping against its side. I loosen my grip slightly on Bekah's fragile wrist when I see the subtle wince she quickly tries to cover with an arrogant lift of her chin, as if nothing ever fazes her. It is damn intriguing to see such bravery in one of these pampered prisses, while the plump lips still damp from where she had unconsciously run her tongue only adds to my desire to see just how brave she is. There is a strength of iron running through this soft body now pressed against my entire length. Lush curves pronounced even under layers of frustrating fabric. I can only imagine what it would feel like to have those same curves against me with no hindrance, only skin brushing against skin as we move together.

Would she fight me off with the abject terror of her attacker from the other night or would the fight be more of a first act in a play repeated too often in this restrictive society, to allow for cover when she gives in to me. I blink at my inner thoughts and wonder when I became no better than the savage seaman I had tossed from the ship after he dared to touch what was mine. Mine, as in my prisoner of course. Not some nebulous meaning of mine as in that I wish to dominate or conquer in some way; make that scornful mouth round in low coos of arousal and gaining in volume until she is screaming my name, none other to ever grace that tongue.

All of these roiling thoughts are fighting for supremacy in my brain and are immediately drowned out by the urge to kiss Bekah senseless when her eyes flutter shut and she begins to lean into me. She wants this, damn it, and I'm going to give it to her. Give her everything those powdered fops could not possibly have ever given her in their restrained encounters. There would be no restraint with me. I begin to lower my head as well, allowing the thought of a single sweet kiss before I devour her whole, my breath mingling with her own as I near.

"M'lady, the cap'n told me to bring ye a bath this morn. Are ye decent for me ta bring ye yur tub?"

I am up and off the bed as if yanked by invisible wires, those wires being named "good sense" and "what the hell were you thinking Niklaus". I storm over to the door and jerk it open to reveal the plump scullery maid, one of the few women allowed aboard the ship. Bertie would kick the arse of any man who tried to paw her and made the best meals from meager sea rations. The single raised-eyebrow bespeaks of her surprise at finding me ensconced in the prisoner's quarters this morning and she can be no more surprised than I at what almost transpired in here.

"Come in, Bertie. I was just discussing with Miss Mikaelson her new surroundings and the error of attempting another midnight flight to freedom. Or flight into another of our not so civilized crewmen, as it were. Bring up her bath."

I don't look back to see the confusion painted on Bekah's face. I don't need to as that same confusion is etched across each line of my own. What the hell had I been thinking? I hadn't been thinking and was caught off guard by a siren who knew her effect on men. That's it! The little minx had been trying her seductive powers on me. There is no other explanation for why I could have lost hold of my legendary control. I was cool in even the most perilous of circumstances as it was necessary for one often faced with life or death decisions.

Damn her.

I pace furiously back and forth in my own quarters, knowing there is only a wall separating me from the seductress as I try to work out this excess energy I have suddenly been saddled with. Even now I bet she was charming Bertie. Turning her to Bekah's side with her doe eyes and pouting lips, appearing to belong to the face of an angel but truly that of the most sinful of creatures. Would she convince Bertie to help her in some scheme that would lead to even more danger? I needed to keep a close eye on every encounter between Rebekah and anyone in my employ.

With this thought, my head whips around and I face the wall between our rooms and the oil painting hung so unobtrusively in the center. I tell myself I am only doing this to ensure Bekah comes to no harm from her own plotting and not because I am inextricably drawn to her. I remove the painting from the wall to reveal the small hole drilled for me to observe the goings on in my ocean prison. What I see is enough to take away not only any ire I had previously been stewing in, but also my very breath.

Bertie had worked with swiftness, and probably several assistant hands, to place the tub in the center of the room and fill it with steaming water heated on the coal stove. Rebekah has been left alone to her bath and was slipping the lace chemise, the last of those wretched layers I cursed earlier, down off her shoulders to drop in a puddle on the floor. My evil angel stands bathed in lamplight, a celestial aura glimmering even more brightly off the golden hair now flowing down her gently sloped back nearly to the pert buttocks. In the past I would be ironically amused at the fact I am now as engrossed by the dimples placed at the top of those firm cheeks as Bekah was by mine in a less scandalous area.

She is beautiful and I am in hell.

She steps into the bath and lowers herself slowly until just the tips of her erect nipples can be seen poking through the placid surface of the bath. They appear like sweet berries atop the creamy slope of her perfect breasts. As her arms drape upon the rim of the bath, I can see the bruises placed by the mate who I would gladly kill if he were before me right now for marring that precious skin. As it is, he better hope I never stumble upon him or the bruises I would throttle into his neck would never have time to come to fruition. Breaking his neck would be a joy.

Her hands find the soap and languidly runs it over the curves I earlier felt pressed against me. I feel envy for that inanimate object allowed to worship her every inch. Her sigh of relaxation makes my already raging erection twitch and push angrily against constraining material of my breeches and I spin away from the peephole to angrily swipe the various items from my nearby desk. My hands run through my hair in frustration and I am somewhat bemused when I realize there is only one way I will be able to rid myself of this tension which is plucking my every nerve.

I trudge over to my bed and collapse backwards onto it and try to remember the last time I needed to take my own pleasure into hand. Normally I can abstain between ports and I pride myself on on not giving in to my baser instincts, but that beguiling mermaid had ruined any grip I had on rationality and the only grip which could bring me back to earth was my own on my straining cock.

With a sigh of resignation, I undo the fixings to my breeches and set myself free, groaning in relief to no longer be confined. There is no point in prolonging this as I just want to get it, get her, out of my system. I attempt to envision the last married society women I used to assuage my urges in an attempt to wipe Bekah from my mind, but all I see is that bowed mouth and all I can think about is it wrapped around my straining member.

I run my thumb over the beads of pre-cum that are seeping from my head, imagining it is Bekah's tongue making the first innocent forays into a new carnal knowledge. Had the other men she'd been with ever enjoyed her in this way? I forced that thought from my head angrily, not wanting to imagine any man ever having touched her pristine body. I would kill them all, anyone who had ever dared broach the sanctity of my new found haven.

My hand gripped my length more firmly as I began to stroke, each motion akin in my mind to a pass by her warm mouth and inquisitive tongue. Would I taste like desire to her? Would she need to relieve her own cravings at the same time as she pleased me, one dainty hand helping me along as the other slid between her pink lower lips. God, how I wished to give her my own tongue to replace those nimble fingers. She would be like honey and salvation on my lips, sanctifying me as I made her see heaven.

My pace quickens as I bring my other hand over to massage my aching balls, imagining it is her soft little palm rolling across them and not my more calloused one. I can feel them tightening to signal an imminent release, any other time being ashamed at how quickly a woman has brought me to my knees. It isn't even an actual woman, but the thought of one that has me taking a final pass before spilling onto my bare stomach that which I have a desperate need to spill into her hand...her mouth...her sweet cunt. Only her name is spoken as an absolution for my sins.

"Rebekah!"


	6. Chapter 6

My languid bath is disturbed by the crash I hear in the next room. I sit up quickly, clutching my hands to my bosom as if expecting whoever has raised such a ruckus to come through the wall itself. As I jerk my head towards the sound of the noise, I notice what appears to be a pinhole flash of light lingering on the wall…or in the wall? That makes no sense. How could a tiny speck of light be hovering so on the wall?

As always, my curiosity guides me more quickly than my common sense and I reach out for a bath sheet to wrap around my dripping form before stepping from the bath. I tilt my head inquisitively as I step with mild trepidation towards the source of my confusion. It is once I am upon it that I realize it is nothing more than a peephole that has surely been carved to spy on the occupants of either room.

Before I can resist the urge, I am stretching up on my toes to get a glimpse of my voyeur, perhaps to shame him somewhat on his nerve in breaching my solitude. How fortuitous of me to be able to focus on the scene before me merely moments before the bronzed Adonis spills his seed upon his toned stomach, my name upon Niklaus's lips.

"Rebekah!"

Only a muffled sound through the sturdy timbers, but it was undeniably my name and me he was finding pleasure in. It was as if when he breathed my name I could sense it on my very own lips, a hand reaching up to touch them to try and capture the verbal kiss there a bit longer. I turn and press my back to the wall in a desperate bid for stability, the roll and pitch of this great ship having nothing to do with how unsteady I feel. I close my eyes tightly to erase the image now burned into my mind. Instead, it is like a million etchings are flicking across it; Niklaus's hand, his lips, his rippling muscles, and his erect manhood each vying for supremacy. I quickly return to dress as if covering my own nudity will stop me from thinking about how his skin would feel pressed against mine.

Over the next several days time, time does nothing to diminish the effect of what I saw and I am a gauche schoolgirl around Niklaus. He, it would appear, is equally disturbed by me. He checks on me once a day with a head downcast , sending a message that the sight of me is repugnant. Maybe I am the slatternly maid I am made out to be if I invoke such a reaction in an unrepentant scoundrel and his averted gaze is a way to cope with my unwanted temptation. We deal in fleeting glances and stilted conversation until he can excuse himself once he has been assured I have not tried to flee or gone on a hunger strike.

The confinement and thick tension has me boiling over with frustration at every turn, even taking it out on Matthew one morning when he brings my breakfast.

"If I see one more piece of salted beef and dried biscuit, I am going to scream!" I proceed to demonstrate the efficacy of my lungs and my throwing arm as I toss the plate against the wall. Niklaus comes racing into my chamber to see if I am the murderer or murderee and I launch into him, as well.

"I understand I am but a lowly prisoner, yet I am going MAD! My father will not pay a fair price for a daughter that must be permanently asylumed!" Forgetting everything of our recent troubles, I race over to Niklaus and grasp at his shirt. "I know we are far out to sea, so there is no chance even in my mermaid costume of me swimming to shore, so can't you at least allow me to go on deck? Let the wind blow some of this insanity free from its moorings in my head! I will be a much more docile and appreciative guest if you make it so."

I may have laid it on a bit thick at the end if the eye-rolling I receive from Niklaus is any indication, but the sigh of resignation also tells me I have won. I squeal with delight and embrace Matthew with a quick kiss on the cheek. "I am so sorry for my behavior this morning and I promise to be a perfect angel after you take me on deck. It'll be lovely."

My arms is linked in Matthew's, pulling him towards the door where Niklaus bars our exit with a raised palm. "Excuse me, Bekah, but if you think I am going to allow a worldly woman such as yourself to spend even more time seducing this young pup, you truly have gone daft already."

If I weren't so desperate to breathe something other than this oppressive air, I would have smacked the smug smirk off of his face and taken my consequences.

"Well you are definitely not going to allow me to wander unaccompanied, so which of your brutes are you going to offer the opportunity to paw at me once we are on deck? Might I request one with a bit of dental hygiene for when he attempts to shove his tongue down my throat?"

"Now, Bekah, not every man is taken in by your feminine wiles. I'm sure I can restrain myself."

"Are you so sure of that, Niklaus?"

The words are out before I have a chance to think them through, quickly snapping my mouth shut in an attempt to reclaim them. He looks at me with curious irritation, although I note a slight flush high on his cheeks. A fortuitous "ahem" from Matthew prevents either of us from goading the other much more, and Niklaus offers his arm which I gently take to get this show moved to higher ground.

We move swiftly through the corridors and up ladders until with a push on a large, wooden door I get my first taste of fresh air in weeks. I stumble forward a bit, blinded by the sunshine and the utter vastness of the ocean. I have never been at sea and it is overwhelming. I grab onto the rail as a gust of wind lifts the tendrils which have strayed from my imperfect upswept hair. The temptation is too great and I quickly unpin my heavy mane as it begins to waft behind me on the breeze. I tilt my head back, eyes closed to enjoy the sun as it kisses my cheek. I have no idea of the image I paint nor the complete concentration Niklaus has on my form, both of us oblivious to the downhaul that has come free of the sail and is whipping ever closer to where we stand. A yell from an afterguard sets Niklaus in motion and I suddenly find myself pressed against the outer wall of the wheelhouse.

"What do you think you're doing?! You have no right to put your hands on me!"

"It may have avoided your notice, princess, but you were about to get a good lashing from that rope."

"If your men were better sailors I would not have been at risk in the first place! Or if you had left me in my father's care! All of this is your fau-mph…"

My words are cut off mid-bluster by Niklaus's mouth fastening on mine. I am struck at once that my urge is not to fight or flee, but to give back as good as I get. I only consider sticking to my societal upbringing for approximately a second before my fingers weave into the blond curls that were made to be grasped in passion, it seems. A knee forced between my legs to part them for Niklaus to press even tighter against me causes me to gasp out in surprise, which only welcomes in a most tantalizing tongue and nary a thought of dentistry. This increased closeness allows me to be made very aware that I am not alone in my reaction to this embrace. The hard length I viewed through the peephole is now driving against my stomach. I wonder how it would feel pressed against the damp silk of my…

This thought is cut off as Niklaus breaks off the kiss, lips still swollen and damp from contact with mine.

"Now I know the way to get you to stop yammering all the bloody time. Be more temperate with your anger, Bekah, or I'll take great pleasure at finding a more interesting way to occupy your mouth."

Each word is spoken barely a hair's breadth away from my lips, even brushing against them deliciously at the word pleasure. Before I can muster a response, Niklaus has taken my hand and half led me, half dragged me down into the bowels of the ship once more. I am still in a daze when the door closes behind me in my prison and I am left with only one thought:

Is it possible to look forward to finding a reason to behave as a brat?


End file.
